


Whispers

by ladydragon76



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, Warning: Disturbing Mental Images, Warning: Torture, Warning: violence, character: megatron, character: tarn, character: ultra magnus, genre: dark, genre: horror, smut: sticky, verse: idw, warning: non-con, warning: read at your own risk, warning: triggery content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Megatron should have expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Tarn/Megatron  
>  **Warnings:** Noncon, Violence, Triggery Content, Dark, Read at Your Own Risk  
>  **Notes:** The request can be found [here](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14665877#t14665877), though the reason I heard of it was because Masq saw it and squealed at me. Then the rest of the usual suspects nodded and enabled, and THEN the OP turned out to be NK, who saw the fic on my 2015 To Write list~ I… probably had too much fun torturing Megatron here. This is NOT pretty, please mind those warnings.

“My lord,” a smooth, low voice purred from just off to Megatron’s left.

Megatron stilled, and suddenly, deeply, regretted staying with the shuttle. Of course, shore leave lacked all appeal to him. He couldn’t get drunk, he wasn’t allowed to drink normal energon or high grade, and even if it would have an effect, and he didn’t enjoy being inebriated to begin with. Ultra Magnus had refused to leave him unsupervised on the _Lost Light_ , but also refused to leave Rodimus unescorted. Not after Hedonia- whatever happened there. The compromise had been that Megatron was to stay with the shuttle -the controls of which he was locked out of- and ‘behave himself’ until the others returned. He had taken the opportunity to write.

“Tarn,” Megatron replied as the moment stretched out. He angled his helm just enough to see the mech where he dominated the shuttle’s open ramp.

“I have heard a rumor,” Tarn said and stepped forward.

There was little point in stalling now that the moment was upon him, so Megatron turned in his chair, shoulders back and chest on display. “A rumor? Is that what my orders are being called now?”

Tarn’s plating tightened, his optics flaring behind the mask for a moment before he recovered. “So it is true.”

“Yes. The war is over, and I ordered _all_ Decepticons to stand down.” In its casing, Megatron’s spark spun faster. Under normal circumstances, he would have no fear of Tarn at all, but he was no longer living under normal circumstances, and Tarn was… dedicated.

“I see. And once we stand down, what do we do after?” Tarn asked and took another slow, deliberate step forward.

“Return to Cybertron. Live a life of peace.”

Another step. Close enough that Megatron had to look up. “And await your rise from these shackles, my lord?”

“I seek atonement.”

The air grew thick and heavy, and for a long moment, Tarn said nothing, then his optics shifted behind the mask. He turned his helm, took in the shuttle, then returned his gaze to Megatron. “I would know your plans, my lord. To better serve you.”

Megatron narrowed his optics as the weight of Tarn’s voice pressed down on him. He wasn’t immune, but he would never have unleashed such a power if he couldn’t resist it. Though never before had Tarn tested that resistance. “My plans currently include finishing the poem I was working on before you so rudely interrupted me.”

Tarn sighed, his shoulders slumped, and his field even bled genuine regret. “So you have truly forsaken us.”

“I have forsaken nothing,” Megatron growled. He stood, face close to Tarn’s mask. “I started this. And I finished it. Discard your mask and go build yourself an honest life.”

Tarn’s optics narrowed. “I read your words. You said we were wrong to stand up against our oppressors. They… did not _feel_ like your words. My lord.”

Megatron knew what Tarn wanted to hear. They weren’t his words, not really. They were Optimus Prime’s, or whoever he had had write that speech, but the war needed to end. “We strayed too far. We became what we hated. _I_ became what I hated. The Decepticons are done. Stand down.”

A faint tremor ran through Tarn, but he did step back. He face tilted to the floor, but Megatron knew he was still looking at him. “When I learned of your… decree, my first inclination was to end my life.” He lifted his helm, but Megatron said nothing. He wasn’t surprised, nor would he act it. “I thought of all I’ve done. All the lives I have taken for you, and there was one common thread.” He paused again, squaring his stance and straightening his shoulders. “When faced with certain death, a mech will say, will do _anything_ to save his life.”

Megatron cycled his vents. “Is that what this is, Tarn? Are you giving me the chance to say anything?” He stepped forward and tipped his helm closer to the masked face again. “Would you have me lie to satisfy your selfish needs? So you can go on killing instead of having to change too?”

Another tremor, and Tarn’s optics narrowed. “Yes,” he hissed, and pain exploded in Megatron’s spark. He reeled back, but Tarn caught him by the shoulders, his voice a low whisper that seared Megatron’s sensornet and made his vision glitch to static. “Yes, because the alternative is to remind you what life was like before we rose up. Do you remember, my lord? The strong were slaves. The weak and undeserving our masters.”

Megatron gasped, beyond screaming as he crumpled to the floor. Tarn didn’t let him fall, but instead lowered him gently and settled over him as icy daggers shot agony into his spark. Why had he thought he could resist this? Or was this just another side effect of his power being leashed?

“Do you not remember?” Tarn whispered beside Megatron’s audial. The words lanced through the former Decepticon leader. “The pain.”

Megatron arched up hard enough to lift Tarn from the floor with him.

“The helplessness.”

A convulsion rattled Megatron’s plating against the decking, vocalizer spitting static.

Tarn’s voice shifted to a rumbling croon. “The submission.”

“No!” Megatron gasped as heat and desire flashed to life under his plating. Lust and pleasure blazed away the pain, a torture all its own. Not this, he thought and tried to squirm free of Tarn’s grasp. Pain he could take, but this was nothing Megatron had ever wanted to endure again.

“Come now,” Tarn purred, pulling a hitched gasp from Megatron. He shifted to his knees, hips rocking down to slide with a hiss of metal on metal against Megatron’s interface cover. “Surely you remember this? Being helpless to another’s will? You cannot want to return to it?” His voice shifted again, and pain lashed Megatron even as the pleasure coiled low.

“No,” Megatron grit out, but his panel snapped open despite his desperate overrides. He shivered under Tarn as his spike pushed out.

“Then I will remind you,” Tarn murmured in deliberate misunderstanding.

Megatron tried to force his limbs to cooperate, but the most he managed was to claw along the treads, then grip them. There was no word for this sort of torment. Burning ice shredded his sensornet under freezing flames of agony. Lust consumed him to the point he couldn’t think and didn’t understand why he hadn’t overloaded yet. He couldn’t breathe. His spark was going to implode. His vocalizer spat static, and his plating chimed and rang as his shook.

“You _must_ remember,” Tarn whispered. “You must, because the alternative would crush my spark.”

Slick heat poured down the length of Megatron’s spike, and Tarn’s valve rippled, squeezed. He moaned, and the sound of it wrapped a need more intense than any other Megatron had ever experienced around his spark. “Remember,” he whispered and began to rock his hips. “Remember,” he purred, “or I’ll crush yours first.”

Megatron gasped and writhed in the ecstatic torment. Each soft sound Tarn made stoked pain or pleasure to new heights. There was no bracing for it or against it. Megatron couldn’t drift with it. There was no rhythm, no pace. He managed to engage his vocalizer just in time to roar in denial as overload ripped him apart. Distantly, he heard Tarn moan again, but the sound cut off on a shocked yelp. The weight pinning Megatron down tore away hard enough to flip him to his side. He panted, bleary gaze landing on Tarn when the mech clutched his neck and stared back past Megatron.

“Tarn,” Ultra Magnus’ voice resonated inside the shuttle. “You are under arrest for-”

Tarn launched over Megatron, strangely silent, but Ultra Magnus shouted as they crashed together. By the time Megatron convinced his body to twist over so he could look, Magnus was on the ground and grumbling, and Tarn was gone.

“And to think, I came back because I was certain it would be you causing trouble.” Megatron just stared at Ultra Magnus, processors still trying to catch up to the sudden shift, but Magnus said, “I apologize. Nothing about this is, or should be treated as amusing. Are you wounded?”

“No?” Though Megatron honestly wasn’t sure. Everything hurt. Then the humiliation kicked in. His thighs and abdomen were painted in his own transfluid, and his spike was still bared. That was hurriedly retracted and his panel shut, though nothing could hide it. Nothing would change what happened, or that Magnus had seen it. Which meant there would be a report. There would be evidence gathered.

There would be no forgetting.

“I believe Rodimus and the others will be fine for now,” Magnus said as he dragged himself to his feet and reached for the ramp controls. “We will return to the ship and have Ratchet look you over for injuries.” He seemed to wait for Megatron’s agreement, but when nothing was said, strode to the pilot’s chair and prepared the shuttle for liftoff.

Megatron dragged himself upright and leaned against the bulkhead, then tried not to shake. He remembered everything, and Tarn was going to regret reminding him.


End file.
